Ward Z Page 27

  As the entire hospital is destroyed in a series of huge explosions, my body is ripped apart, reduced to the level of individual atoms spinning through the chaos.

  Everything is bright white.

  The last thing I hear is Catherine's voice, telling me that at the end, everyone believed in God. The crazy thing is, I think she might be right.

  Cally Briggs

  As I feed, I'm suddenly struck by the memory of a little girl. My old mind is crying out, remembering its child, but that life now seems so far away. It's as if the real Cally Briggs is now nothing more than a ghost in this body, flickering in the background and trying desperately to cling on to the things it knows. There's something pathetic about the way the human mind refuses to die, even when the odds are overwhelmingly stacked against it, and as I tear at this victim's flesh, I close my eyes and see the little girl more clearly.

  "Emma!" a voice screams in the back of my mind.

  Suddenly I realize that something's wrong. I turn and look over at the window. Danger is headed this way, fast. The end. For us, at least. But as I tear a section of flesh from the dead woman's neck, I smile at the thought that this is only the beginning. We were the first, here in this ward, but there'll be millions to come after us. We're strong, and humanity is weak. We'll burst free from within their bodies and take control, like flowers blossoming in the rain.

  "Emma!" the voice screams again, refusing to die even as an explosion rips through the room and rips my body apart. Even now, there's that damn voice, still ringing in my ears.

  Suddenly I'm standing in some kind of garden, next to a pub. It's a bright summer's day and there are children playing nearby, while a large black dog sleeps on the grass. There's a table next to me, covered with empty, dirty plates. The image shimmers and flickers, but for a fraction of a second, it feels so very real.

  "Emma!"

  And then everything is white.

  Epilogue

  The sun's glare caught for a moment on the top of the car.

  "So she's your... niece?" Teresa asked, watching Emma playing in the park.

  Colin nodded, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the little girl. It had been three days since he'd managed to get Emma away from the hospital. They'd still been running across the parking lot as the missiles struck, and it had been a miracle that they hadn't been killed by falling debris. Somehow, despite the odds being stacked against them, they'd made it to safety, but although Colin had tried to get Emma back to her family, he'd found her father's house to be completely empty. He'd soon realized that Emma's father, like so many other people who'd been to the hospital recently, had been taken away to quarantine.

  He'd also realized that if the authorities found Emma, they'd take her away. They might even kill her.

  "So how did the army work out for you?" Teresa asked, turning to him. "You weren't gone that long."

  "It wasn't for me," Colin muttered, his heart beating fast as a police car drove past. Once the danger was gone, he tried to relax. He knew it was insane to be out in the open with Emma like this, but he was still working on a plan, some way to ensure that they'd both be safe.

  "How long are you going to be looking after your niece?"

  "I'm not sure," he replied. "She's..." He paused for a moment as he realized that maybe he shouldn't give Teresa too much information. After all, he still wasn't quite sure whether or not he could trust her. Things might get tricky in the near future.

  "They closed another part of London last night," Teresa continued. "It was on the news. That's, like, half the country now. All the borders are still sealed, but apparently the same thing's happening in other places. France, Germany, even America." She paused. "What do you think's going on? Do you think it's some kind of virus?"

  Colin nodded. He was trying to work out where they should go next. Although he didn't want to over-react, he felt that there was a danger of real anarchy breaking out, especially if the creatures from the hospital turned out to be all over the world.

  "You're a million miles away, aren't you?" she added.

  "Emma!" Colin shouted, leaning out of the car window. "Come on! We need to get going!"

  "You think it's serious, don't you?" Teresa continued as Emma ran toward the car and got into the back seat.

  "Seat belt," Colin told the little girl, before turning to Teresa. "I think it's worth being prepared for the worst."

  "Did you hear something?" she asked. "In the army, I mean. Did you hear about what's really happening?"

  "Monsters," Emma said from the back seat.

  "There's no such thing as monsters," Teresa said with a smile, turning to her. "Don't worry, Emma. Monsters -"

  "We should go north," Colin said suddenly, realizing that it was time to make a plan. "The Highlands. Scotland. Away from the cities. Or maybe the Lake District. Just somewhere out of the way, at least for a few weeks."

  "While what?" Teresa asked with a nervous smile. "While the rest of the world deals with whatever's going on?"

  "Are you okay?" Colin asked, turning to Emma.

  The little girl nodded. There was sadness in her eyes, and it was clear that she was thinking a lot about her parents, but she was being brave. There'd be time to cry later.

  "You coming?" Colin asked Teresa.

  "I..." She paused. "I have stuff to do."

  "We're leaving right now," Colin said firmly. "I'd like you to come, but I understand if you can't."

  Smiling, Teresa leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "I'll still be here when you and your niece get back," she said, with a hint of uncertainty in her voice. "Have fun on your little adventure, and I'm sure things'll be okay soon. Just promise to look me up, yeah?"

  "Sure," Colin muttered.

  Getting out of the car, Teresa walked over to the nearby bench before turning and waving.

  "Is she going to be okay?" Emma asked.

  "I don't know," Colin said, starting the car and pulling away from the curb.

  "Where are we going?"

  "Somewhere safe," he replied. "Somewhere we can keep out of the way and wait for this whole thing to get sorted out. Don't worry. If we're lucky, in a few weeks' time we can be back in London and we'll find your father."

  "Do you think things will be okay?" Emma asked.

  "Sure," he muttered, keeping his eyes on the road. "You don't feel ill at all, do you? No aches or pains?"

  "I'm okay."

  He glanced at her in his rear-view mirror. She certainly looked healthy, so he figured the doctor was right when he insisted she wasn't infected. Her good health, and his, wouldn't last forever, though; if the disease was spreading through the population, sooner or later everyone would be infected. As the car made its way along a residential street, Colin couldn't help but look out at all the people they passed and wonder if some of them, or even all of them, might already be infected.

  "We're just being extra-cautious," he said, to reassure himself as much as Emma. "There's nothing to worry about. Everything's under control."

  Ignoring the very faint tingling sensation in his belly, which he told himself was just some indigestion from the hot-dog he'd eaten earlier, he steered the car left at the next junction.

  Bonus

  Extract from Darper Danver

  Becky Madison

  "You went where?" my mother asks, turning from the stove and staring at me as if I've just said something utterly horrifying.

  "What's the big deal?" I ask, taking a puff on my cigarette as I wait for lunch to be served. "It's just a cabin. It's four walls, a floor and a roof, and there's nothing else there." I turn to Milly and Abe, who are picking at the sandwiches my dear old mother prepared for them. "It's the twenty-first century, right? We ain't scared of the dark no more."

  Abe frowns.

  "What?" I ask, taking another puff. When he fails to reply, I turn and look over at the window. The rain is really starting to come down now, which means I probably won't head back out to the cabin. I guess I'll deal with
a few errands in town instead.

  "I'm not talking about being scared of the dark," my mother says, clearly flustered. "It's just so morbid! That damn place should have been knocked down years ago!"

  "Language, Ma!" I reply with a grin. "You'll upset our guests." Glancing over at Milly and Abe, I realize that they're staring at me as if they don't really trust me. "I guess you're not really guests," I mutter, "seeing as you're here all day every day."

  My phone buzzes, and I see that it's yet another message from Nate Briggs. The poor asshole seems totally besotted, which I guess is useful. Checking the message, I find that he thinks he might have trouble finding the Darper Danver stories in the basement since there's apparently some journalist at the house. I quickly type out a message, asking him what he means.

  "You have to promise me you won't ever go up there again!" my mother continues. "Promise me, Becky! The woods aren't safe! You never know what kind of perverts might be out there. That's what perverts do, you know. They wander around, looking for people who let their guard down!"

  "You've never met a pervert in your life," I mutter. "Not that you're aware of, anyway. I'm sure there are plenty around this crumby little town, but they're too lazy to leap out from behind a bush. They probably just sit around looking at stuff online."

  "I read the newspapers!" she replies. "I know what the world's like, Becky, and I know it's dangerous! Anyway, why did you want to go up there? What possibly reason could you have for visiting the place where your brother..." Her voice trails off, and after a moment she turns back to the stove. "I've got half a mind to get a can of petrol and go up there myself. Some places should be torn down when evil things have happened within their walls. There's no way that cabin can ever be used again, not by decent people. It's not right that it's still up there!"

  "It's old," Abe says between mouthfuls of soup. "That place has been there for centuries. My grandfather told me stories about the woman who built it. Shoulda been torn down a long time ago."

  "What kinda stories?" I ask.

  "Ghost stories," he replies. "Truth is, that ain't a place anyone should ever go. There's evil there, in the walls. It was a bad place before everything that happened with Bobby, and it's a bad place now." He pauses for a moment. "You might think I'm a dumb old man, but when you get to my age, you start to feel these things. Places have memories, just like people do. Some people, their souls burn brighter than others, and even after the flames are out, there's smoke in the air. Sometimes that smoke lingers a long time, and you wanna avoid it."

  "Huh," I say, realizing that far from being a source of useful information, Abe's actually just an old crank. "Well, if I need help with a ghost, I'll let you know."

  "Someone should take matters into their own hands," my mother says.

  "So now you're advocating arson, huh?" I say with a smile. Turning to Abe, I see that his sour face is as humorless as ever. "She doesn't understand my plan," I say after a moment. "Poor old Ma, she doesn't realize that I'm working on something really big. Pretty soon, all the pieces are gonna slot into place and everyone'll be amazed that I could pull off something so huge. Seriously, I'm a genius. I know that's an immodest thing to say, but I can't help it. If you could see all the different strands I'm pulling together..."

  Abe frowns again.

  "Never mind," I mutter. "I ain't got time to sit around here all day. I've got a few more things to do before the plans are all fixed, but..." I glance over at my mother. "Hey, Ma. I don't wanna say too much in front of your pals, but I thought you might like to know that certain plans are moving forward nicely."

  "What plans would those be?" she asks, focusing on the stove.

  "The stuff we talked about the other day," I continue. "I'm sure you'll remember if you think really hard. Hell, it's not like we ever talk about anything else, is it?" I watch the back of my mother's head, and I know damn well that she understands what I'm talking about. Glancing at Abe and Milly, I can see that they're curious, and I kinda enjoy teasing them a little. "Don't worry, Ma," I continue, "I'm well advanced with everything. I'd say more, but the walls have ears around this place."

  My phone buzzes again, and once again it's a message from Nate. This time, he tells me that Cassie is working with some writer from New York. It seems the little bitch is planning to cash in on everything that happened to her. I have to admit, for a moment, I feel as if I wanna smash the phone against the wall and storm straight over to the Briggs house. Why the hell does that little whore think she can make a profit by telling more lies about Bobby? Unfortunately, I figure I should keep quiet and not let the others know about all of this. Not yet, anyway.

  "I hope you're going to be sensible," my mother says calmly, placing a bowl of fresh soup on the table in front of me. "Sometimes the past belongs in the past, Becky. It might be wiser to move on. Life goes forward, not backward, and it's useless trying to go against the current. You'll only cause yourself more heartache."

  "What's wrong?" I ask, aware that Milly and Abe are listening to every word of our conversation. "You worried I might grab a steak-knife and go do something dumb?" I watch as my mother takes two more bowls of soup and sets them in front of the two old farts on the other side of the table. She's clearly trying to ignore me, but there's no way I'm going to let her act all superior after her efforts in the rain the other night. "There's nothing for you to worry about," I continue. "I've got everything covered."

  I wait for a reply, but she seems to have decided that she'd rather stay silent.

  "Do you want to say grace?" Milly asks, turning to Abe.

  "Maybe Rebecca would like the honor," he replies, glancing at me. "After all, it's been so long since she was last here."

  "Actually, I'm off," I say, getting to my feet. "Sorry, Ma. Lunch looks great, but I'm watching my weight. Anyway, I've got a few things to be doing. I can't sit around twiddling my thumbs all day."

  "You need to eat!" she says, looking a little hurt.

  "I'll grab something healthy on the road," I reply, stepping over to her and planting a kiss on her cheek before heading out the door.

  Once I'm outside, I pause on the porch for a moment and re-read that last message from Nate. The idea of Cassie Briggs telling her sob story to a journalist is enough to make my blood boil. Still, I figure I can turn the situation around and make it a more positive experience. If there's a journalist in town, looking to produce some kind of glamor piece about Briggs and her sob story, I think it might be time for someone to introduce a conflicting viewpoint. After buttoning my coat, I run across the driveway and quickly get into my car. It's a foul day, but I guess there's no rest for the wicked. Cassie's obviously busy trying to rehabilitate her reputation, but fortunately I'm pretty sure I know how to make sure things don't go her way.

  Fisher Benhauser

  "She's asleep," says Cassie's mother, eying me suspiciously as she stands in the doorway. "I'd rather not disturb her. She's very tired and she needs her rest."

  "This can't wait," I say firmly. "Please, Mrs. Briggs. You have to let me see her."

  "I'm sorry -"

  "She might be in trouble," I continue, interrupting her. "There's something I need to tell her, and it can't wait. I'll only be a few minutes, but I'm not leaving until you let me see her."

  Glancing out at the street, she seems for a moment to be worried that we're being watched. "I'm sorry," she says eventually, turning back to face me, "but I can't let you come inside, Fisher. Please don't ask me to explain, there are far too many reasons. Just go home and forget about everything. Forget about Cassie." With that, she tries to push the door closed, but I put my foot in the way.

  "I need to see her," I say firmly. "This is important. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't a matter of life and death."

  "Why can't you just leave her alone?" she replies, keeping her voice low. "You've moved on with your life, and that's all well and good, but don't come around and expect to cause trouble. You didn't wait for her, and that's your choi
ce, but -"

  "Wait for her?"

  "You know damn well what I mean," she hisses.

  I open my mouth to argue with her, but I know there's no point. Besides, this is something I really don't want to discuss right now, and definitely not with Cassie's mother.

  "She's signed an exclusive deal with a New York publisher," she continues, "so if you think you can talk to her about what happened, you're wrong. You'll have to buy the book, along with everyone else." She pauses for a moment. "She's told the truth, you know. Everything. She's told the ghost writer what really happened to Bobby Madison."

  "I doubt that," I reply.

  "She has! She's finally admitted everything, and it's all going to be in the book. All the details. The truth's finally coming out. Can you believe it? After all these years, she finally decided to talk about it." She stares at me for a moment. "What's wrong, Fisher? You look a little scared. Don't you want the truth to come out?"

  "I don't even know what the truth is," I reply, starting to worry that I might be too late.

  "Then leave," she says firmly. "This is nothing to do with you, Fisher. Please, just leave."

  "Believe me," I reply, "I don't want to be here. I want to keep as far away from Cassie as possible, but some things are just too important."

  "Just give me a message, then," she replies. "I'll pass it on when she wakes up."

  I pause for a moment, and then finally I push her out of the way and hurry into the house.

  "I'll call the police!" she shouts, trying to pull me back as I head to the stairs. "You can't come in here, Fisher! You're trespassing on private property!"

  "Call the cops if you want," I reply, heading up the stairs. "I'll be gone by the time they get here."

  "Fisher!" she shouts, hurrying after me. "Stop! Nate! Wake up!"